


Jaded

by vtn



Category: Green Day
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-17
Updated: 2005-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I'll make you feel something, god damn it."  And that's when he kisses me.</i>  Billie is wracked with misdirected anger and ennui, and only Mike knows how to reach him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jaded

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Green Day songs "Jaded" (obviously) and "Having a Blast". A little violent, not too graphic.

Sometimes I just get fed up with the fucking futility of it all.

Caught up in a moment, so close to the stage my head is pressed up to an amplifier, sliding up and down against the metal slicked with the sweat from my neck with every pulsation of the crowd—not then. When I’m the one on stage, when I’m the one singing or more often shouting into the microphone, feeling the contact of my teeth against the metal when I lean forward—not then. Laughing with my friends, getting drunk or getting stoned or just getting a contact high off each other’s endorphins—not then.

But there are always those demons in the back of my mind, clawing their way forward when I’m alone and staring out my window into a day as dry as the back of my throat. Sending taunts of failure ricocheting around the sides of my head until they become too grating to bear.

And I turn on my tape player and I turn it up loud, and I put on the bands that always mean something to me, and I lean against my bed and the vibrations throw my head forward and bash it back into the wall, over and over. And before I know it I’ve crawled into the corner and my head is going bangbangbangbangbangbang against two walls at once. And I would have a migraine headache but I hardly even feel the pain anymore. Even the music that always made me feel _something_ doesn’t make me feel anything.

All I feel is physically sick, like I want to throw up but my body is so listless that even my gag reflex refuses to work and so I just have to wait for everything to settle over. But I don’t want to settle over. I want to feel. I want to fucking feel something!

And that’s when I go to his room, I go to his room because he’s in the house and it’s convenient, and I say hi to him, and of course he doesn’t hear me because my music’s on so loud but I pretend it’s like the bastard has the nerve to ignore me. So I’ll have someone to yell at, right? And then darkness clouds in around my eyes and makes my head spin and takes control, and suddenly everything is hostile and he’s the center of it.

And I scream at him, I scream my lungs raw. I pin it on him. He’s such an easy target all of a sudden, standing there without a clue in the world. I make it his fault. I make it his fault the radio plays the music but it doesn’t play the feelings. I scream that he fucking broke it, he fucking broke it.

Fuck you, fuck you, and I hold it up in the air and I hit stop, but our shouts are enough to fill the house with noise to replace the mindless babble of the tape that used to mean something. And I hold it up in the air and I lunge at him and I let go of the radio and it catches him square in the shoulder, and he’s in pain but it’s not enough, it’s not enough, he needs to hurt more.

I’m an A-bomb, and I explode. He’s screaming I know but he’s mute to my ears, and I need to hear him, need to know he’s hurting for what he’s done because at this point my mind is feeling this need for blood and it scares me but I can’t control it. There’s a dresser in the room, and I bang on it with my fists and finally I slam it down in his direction. There’s a chair—I fling it at him. There’s a window, I smash it. He’s trying to fight back now, trying to hold me down. Shouting at me but I don’t know what he’s saying.

All of a sudden I’m pushed up against the wall and I’m powerless. I shrink into myself. He’s standing over me, he’s glaring and his eyes are full of a rage that I’ve never seen, and I’m dimly aware that it’s doing something to me, I’m dimly aware that he notices, and he smiles but it means nothing. And I’m still shrinking and he probably should be frightening me but I still don’t register anything he says and I still don’t feel anything. Then his voice pierces through the balloon around me and everything shatters.

“I’LL MAKE YOU FEEL SOMETHING, GOD DAMN IT!”

And that’s when he kisses me.

Presses his body up against mine, and his mouth up against mine, and suddenly I’m tasting blood, and I realize he is already turning black and blue, and my knuckles are bleeding, and I realize how much pain I’m in, and I realize just what exactly that look of rage was doing to me somewhere down below my stomach.

I swear I must be going insane. No, I went there already. I’m crazy. There’s something wrong with me. But he’s still kissing me. And he’s also shoving me against the wall over and over again, bangbangbangbangbangbang. And he’s throwing punches at me, turning my skin red and raw like the anger and the lust and the fear that’s all exposed.

And that’s what reminds me I can still feel.  



End file.
